Lucky Man
by SisiDraig - 2
Summary: After the bashing Justin loses a year of memory. Brian sees it as a sign to stop what he was doing. Craig sees it as an opportunity to get his family back…. Title taken from a song by The Verve
1. Chapter 1

**D/C: Queer as Folk is NOT mine though i love it as my own and would happily go to court and fight for custordy! =D **

* * *

Brian looked up at the ceiling in the darkened loft. The blue lights above his bed had always bathed the room in an eerie, cold haze but somehow, tonight, it was colder. He thought back to how it had all began, just a one night stand with a guy who looked hot under a street light. That was the night everything had changed forever, over the year he'd been pissed at the kid, grown fond of the kid and now…. Well, now he didn't know how to feel because all that was inside him was a numb, empty space. He felt like he didn't know anything anymore. He'd never cried as much as he had that evening and now he just felt weak and exhausted and blank. He wasn't thinking anything, he wasn't feeling anything, he may as well have been an inanimate object but, through all the numbness and the nothingness, there was a distinct feeling of guilt and pain.

He thought back to that last kiss by the jeep. If he'd known it was going to be the last one he'd ever share with the kid, he'd have made it special. He'd have made it count but what would have been the point? It's not as though Justin would ever remember it. It's not as though Justin would ever even know he existed. He blinked away the sharp sting that had built up in his eye. Surely, there weren't anymore tears to cry. He couldn't believe this had happened. He felt like he'd been on the emotional rollercoaster of his life in this past week and now it was over. The ride had finished and he was left feeling a little sick and dizzy with the force of it all.

He closed his eyes but he couldn't keep them closed for long. Every time he shut his mind off, it would immediately take him back to that car park. He'd see Justin walk away from him. He'd see Chris step out of the shadows. The bat would swing and then …. Brian's eyes shot open and he went back to staring at the ceiling. He could still hear the voices of the paramedics "step away Mr Kinney, there's nothing you can do for him now. Let the doctors do their jobs." He could hear the doctor, "we're not very optimistic." He could hear the bleeping of machinery, the nurses offering menial, bullshit words of so-called comfort as though anything could comfort him in this situation and he could hear that stupid fucking doctor, "I'm sorry Mr Kinney, it's obvious you care about him but we can only disclose the state of the patient with a member of his immediate family."

Three fucking days he'd waited. He'd barely eaten, he'd hardly breathed. It was like he'd forgotten that a world continued outside that hospital as someone he cared about led, seemingly lifeless, in a bed being kept alive by a whole load of wires. It was all his fucking fault. When the doctor finally announced that Justin was going to live, Brian had been so relieved as a whole world of stress disappeared from him, that he barely registered the doctors warning that "he may have some kind of memory loss but we won't know the extent of it until he wakes up."

The hospital kept Justin in a coma for the rest of the week and Brian came to see Justin everyday and he was there when those beautiful blue eyes finally flickered open slowly. Justin's brow creased as he looked around at the strange hospital room. He blinked once and took another look, still frowning and then he spotted Brian stood a yard away looking at him with an amazed, relieved expression on his face.

"Justin," Brian whispered, reaching out a hand tentatively to touch Justin's hand. Justin flinched away terrified and Brian just looked a little hurt. "It's okay," Brian said, "it's just me."

Justin didn't look placated by this information, if anything he looked more uncomfortable.

"Look, I'm sure you blame me and I wouldn't blame you for that. I know it's my fault but I…"

"What?" Justin interrupted, confusion obvious in his eyes. "What's your fault? Are you the reason I'm in hospital? What did you do to me?"

"Er," Brian stalled, not sure which of those questions to answer first. "How much do you remember?" He question eventually. "Do you remember any of the prom?"

"Prom?" Justin raised an eyebrow completely confused. "The proms only for the students who've finished their final year."

"Well, yeah but…" and then it hit Brian like a ton of bricks. Justin's memory loss was more extensive than he'd expected but did that mean …. Brian stopped his thoughts and looked carefully at the kid ahead of him. "How old are you?" He asked, feeling like he was right back there on the night they met.

"Seventeen," Justin answered warily.

"What year are you in at school?"

"I've just started the twelfth grade."

Brian felt sick, he knew what that meant but he had to be sure, so he took a deep breath; "do you know who I am?"

"Apparently, you're the man responsible for me being in here."

Brian just nodded slowly. "Right," he whispered. "Er, sorry for disturbing you. Don't worry. You won't see me again."

Justin frowned but he didn't say anything as the man with no name left his room. As soon as he was on his own, he began to panic. The last thing he remembered was going to sleep fully intending to go to Liberty Avenue the next evening. He'd never been there before but he knew that was the place to go if he wanted to find others like him. If he wanted to fuck and be fucked by the hottest, most beautiful men in Pittsburgh and now he was here, in fucking hospital with some weird guy talking to him like they were long lost friends. Still, the guy _had _been hot but, at the age of seventeen, wasn't every guy in the world hot to him?

He looked around at the machines and spotted a call nurse button. He was about to push it when the door to his room opened.

"Aha," a brisk-moving doctor announced with a pleased look on his face as he unhooked the clipboard from the end of the bed and read a few things off the sheet. "Justin Taylor, excellent, you're awake."

"Er, yeah," Justin agreed. He wasn't really sure what the procedure was for going to sleep in bed and waking up in a hospital.

"Okay then Justin, just a few questions for you."

The blonde nodded mutedly.

"Right, what is your name?"

"Er, you just said," Justin frowned.

"Humour me," the doctor frowned, it was obvious he just wanted to tick a few boxes and send the kid on his way.

"Justin Taylor," Justin answered.

"Excellent. Er, residing address."

Justin gave his home address and the doctor frowned but scribbled it down anyway before asking, "Justin can you tell me what date it is?"

"2nd December," Justin announced, with no doubt in his mind that he was absolutely right. The doctor frowned again and scribbled something else down on his clipboard.

"And the year?"

"2000"

The doctor nodded a little and produced a flashlight, shining it first into Justin's left eye and then his right eye and noting something else down. "Well," the doctor sighed, hooking the clipboard back over the end of Justin's bed, "it looks like you might be suffering with a little memory loss."

"Memory loss," Justin frowned. "How is that possible?"

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "You really don't remember anything about why you're here?"

Justin shook his head in frustration, why couldn't this man just tell him what was going on? He felt completely in the dark about everything and he was sick of it already. "I'll send a nurse in to explain," the doctor said eventually, "and I should probably contact your mum … and Mr Kinney," he muttered. "That's completely against hospital policy of course but he did pay me to…." The doctor suddenly looked at Justin and snapped his lips together abruptly. "Forget you heard that," he urged suddenly. And then his expression changed to one of curiosity. "Er, Justin, do you remember Mr Kinney?"

"Who?"

"Brian Kinney?"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" The twink asked and the doctor nodded as though understanding something suddenly. It was understandable, of course, that Justin would be frustrated. Without being filled in on the entire story, Justin would just feel like everyone was talking in riddles but it seemed like Justin may have misplaced a year of his life and, if he'd picked up anything from the colourful crowd of visitors to this particular patient, it was that they'd known him less than a year. It seemed to him like Justin may have forgotten everything about his new life. But at least this cleared up Kinney's bizarre closing sentence as he'd left the hospital earlier that day.

"I don't want him to know about me."

The nurse didn't got to Justin's room for another half an hour, by which time, Justin had driven himself half crazy trying to second guess what the seemingly insane doctor was prattling on about but it didn't matter what he'd expected her to say, he hadn't expected that. It seemed Justin had done a lot in a year. He'd come out, got himself a new family on Liberty Avenue, left home because of his homophobic father, moved in with some woman named Debbie, who'd taken him on like an adopted son, scored 1500 on his SATs and got into Dartmouth but his art had improved and he'd chosen PIFA instead. He'd gone to the prom and danced with some guy he'd met on Liberty Avenue, they'd danced in front of everyone and then Chris fucking Hobbs had taken a baseball bat and introduced it to his forehead.

And that was it, the last year of his life, condensed and summed up as best as possible by a couldn't care less nurse and a couldn't care more mother but none of it seemed real. For all he knew, they could have been making it all up entirely. In fact, the more things his mother came out with that had supposedly happened, the more he thought Ashton Kutcher was going to arrive and announce that he'd been Punk'd but that didn't happen. However, the people that were supposedly in his new life didn't arrive either. His mother told them about him all; Debbie, Michael, Emmett, Ted, Mel and Lindsey. His mother had told him that he had adopted them as a new family when his father disowned him but they were just meaningless names to him. None of these 'people' appeared to see him and he had no proof they even existed. He found it impossible to accept that he'd lost an entire year with no recollection whatsoever. It was too far fetched to believe that this whole new cohort of people claimed to love him like part of the family and if that were true, where the hell were they? The only person, other than his mother and Daphne that showed up at the hospital was the man who'd supposedly disowned him; his father, Craig Taylor. It was Craig that really made sense to Justin.

Craig explained things properly. A man, and Justin worked out later it was that man that had been there when he'd woken up, had found him on a street corner whilst Justin minded his own business. He'd forced himself on him as far as possible and it was then, when Justin had realised that maybe he wasn't gay after all but that didn't stop the rumours flying around at school and then Chris had smacked him with a baseball at the prom. Craig admitted that Hobbs' actions had been horrific, however, he told Justin that that other man had provoked the attack, which was why he felt guilty. Justin asked about the other names his mother and Daphne had mentioned, Craig explained that they were just people who'd come out in support of Justin because they were a group of people who stood up to fight against hate crimes.

"So, I'm not gay?" Justin asked. He was aware that his father flinched quite dramatically at the word gay but Craig just drew his lips into a thin line and said sternly.

"No, you've slept with Daphne."

Justin raised an eyebrow. He was completely confused. He'd been so sure in his own mind. It had always been men he'd been ever attracted to ever since he could remember. He couldn't ever remember looking at a woman and finding her anything more that pretty. He'd certainly never wanted to fuck a woman but if his dad was telling the truth, which he was pretty sure he was (why would he lie?) then maybe he had it all wrong. So, Daphne was the love of his life? Well, maybe it was time to follow that up.

"So," his dad said eventually, "the doctors say you can leave if you're feeling up to it. How do you fancy moving in with your dad?"


	2. Chapter 2

"So you don't even wanna know what's happening to him?" Michael demanded in disbelief. He was sat in Brian's loft, trying for the millionth time to get Brian to go and talk to Justin.

"It's not that I don't want to know," Brian said calmly, going to a cupboard and pulling out a bottle of Jack Daniels and pouring himself a double, "it's that I don't care."

"Bullshit," his best friend shot back immediately. "You care plenty."

"Michael, I believe that this situation is fate. Ever since I met that kid, his life has been one massive fuck up after another. Now, he's got a fresh start. He can begin all this again and meet some twinky his own age, someone who won't fuck him about. The kind of person he deserves."

"The kind of person he … what?" Michael frowned, then he focused carefully on his friends eyes. "What have you taken?"

"A little of Anita's magic mix," Brian said, downing his whiskey and reaching for the bottle to pour himself another. Michael was there quicker, dragging the bottle out of the way.

"I think you've had enough," he said in a way that he knew made him sound sort of like Brian's mum or possibly his wife.

"Never enough," Brian shook his head, reaching for his bottle of Jack. Luckily for Brian, his height advantage also gave him longer limbs than his decidedly shorter friend. He plucked the bottle from Michael's fingers, considered the glass for a second and then just swigged straight from the bottle. What the fuck did it really matter anyway?

"Brian," Michael moaned. Christ, he really did sound like a battered housewife. "Stop drinking, that and all the shit you've taken. Are you trying to kill yourself?"

"Drug overdose," Brian said mystically and Michael shuddered a little because Brian seemed to almost admire the concept. "It wouldn't be a bad way to go out. Very rock and roll."

Michael frowned and quickly tried to change the subject as his friend took another long swig from the whiskey bottle. This was going to be a _long _night.

"So you don't care that his Dad's got him virtually under house arrest and there's nothing any of us can do because you put a ban on us seeing him at hospital?""Well what's the point in seeing him, it's not like he has any idea who you are," Brian pointed out casually. "And like I said, this is a fresh start for him. He can live the way he deserves to."

"He's dating," Michael said calmly, watching carefully for any kind of reaction from his friends but, apart from a flash in his eyes which may have just been the reflection of the light, Brian didn't even flinch at the idea of Justin dating. "He's seeing some girl."

"A girl?" Brian asked casually but it was obvious this had completely thrown him.

"Yeah."

"Hmm," Brian sighed, slipped a hand into what was supposed to be a fruit bowl but he dragged out a spliff and lit it quickly. He took a long puff before concluding, "maybe that bang to the head did more damage than we realised."

"It's not the bang to the head," Michael whined, but trying to make his friend understand anything when he was in this state was next to impossible. "It's his dad."

Like Michael expected, Brian not only didn't react, he didn't even seem to care. He just took a long swig of whiskey, a long drag from the spliff and took a hit of the poppers he kept in his pocket. Michael sighed, same old fucking Brian Kinney. He really didn't seem to give a shit.

"Come on," Michael sighed, "why don't we go to Babylon?"

"Finally," Brian grinned, slamming the bottle on the counter top and placing a long, passionate kiss on Michael's lips, "a _good _idea."

* * *

Michael had stayed out dancing with Brian all night until. He'd worried sick about the taller man the entire time, he kept pumping him full of water to try and prevent dehydration, passing out or anything other side effects of all the shit Brian was shovelling into his body. Brian had been so high and drunk and basically wasted out of his mind and it had been wonderful in a somewhat masochistic way. Brian had kissed him, _really _kissed him, so many times already that evening and Michael was just starting to think that this would finally be his night with Brian Kinney.

"Come on," Brian had finally said, at half five in the morning as he rested a hand on Michael's shoulder, "let's get out of here."

Michael's heart leapt out of his chest. This was it, this was finally the moment Brian Kinney was going to fuck him and then it would all be…

"Fuck," Brian's impressed tone cut straight through Michael's daydreaming. The shorter man looked up at his friend's eyes as they trained intently on one target. Michael followed the gaze carefully and say a blonde twink dancing topless in the middle of the dance floor. The twink was toned, with brown eyes and he was young, much younger than Brian used to go for before … well, just before. The twink, of course, was ecstatic to have caught the attention of the legendary Brian Kinney. He was just gazing back, with hopeful eyes and a beaming smile.

"See you later Mikey," Brian smirked as he pushed his way through the crowd to the twink. Michael just watched as Brian leant forward and whispered in the twink's ear. It was seconds before the two were disappearing out of the club and probably back to Brian's loft. Michael could do nothing but watch. He was a bit drunk now and a bit high from all the poppers Brian had been giving him all night. Michael knew going back to the flat would be pointless, he'd probably manage to wake Emmett and it wouldn't be as though he'd be able to sleep anyway.

He wandered around the cold streets for an hour or so until the sun started to brush the buildings again and the street lamps began to plunge back into darkness as the light graced their sensors. It was just after six when he decided that enough was enough. He was still buzzing a little but the tiredness was starting to catch up with him and so was the hangover. He went to the diner, he figured a good breakfast and a few mugs of coffee could keep him going for a while.

"What the fuck happened to you?" Debbie demanded, as soon as she saw her son plonk himself down on the barstool and collapse on her counter.

"I had a long night," was the muffled response.

"Out with Brian?" The red-wigged lady asked knowingly. Michael didn't say anything, he just nodded his head and heard his mother's tut of disapproval. He didn't really give a shit, his mum could tut and sigh all she liked, she cared about Brian almost as much as she cared about Michael. She loved him like a son, it was just a shame he was that son that makes it difficult to love him sometimes. Brian Kinney had always been the scapegoat for anything Michael did to fuck up his life and although Michael knew that it was his own fault he was stuck in a crappy job that he hated his mother wanted to (somewhat irrationally) blame the high-flying, successful, stud and Michael's best friend, Brian Kinney then he wasn't going to stop her. And Brian didn't seem to mind either. Sometimes Michael was pretty sure Brian Kinney the bad ass stud was a lot different to Brian Kinney the man with a loveless childhood and emotional scars so deep they'd never heal. Brian played up to the first persona because it suited him but Michael was hopelessly and irrevocably in love with the second version because it was that Brian that needed Michael.

"So," Debbie asked, licking her pencil and standing with the point just millimetres from the page.

"Coffee," Michael croaked out, "and two rashers of bacon."

"Uh-huh, would you like some advice with that order?" She inquired politely.

"No thanks," he said, knowing full well it wouldn't be that easy.

"Well, tough, it's compliments of the waitress," Debbie scowled. "If you think following Brian to the clubs till all hours of the morning is going to make him love you then you've got another thing coming. If you think he'd going to decide that you're all he needs, if you think he'd going to love you the way you love him then you need to wake up and smell the coffee." She sounded angry and perhaps she was. Michael knew she thought he was wasting his time with Brian but hadn't he tried with Dr David and where had that got him? Absolutely nowhere. "If it hasn't happened by now, it never will. And just because he's decided that Sunshine being out of his life is a good thing and because he's decided we should be out of his lives too does not mean he loves you. He's just trying to do the right thing. In fact, if anything, it shows how much he cares about this fucking kid," she sighed as she thought of poor Sunshine and all that he'd been through. Loving Brian Kinney was worse that a million tortures. "In fact, and I know you're not gonna like hearing this, but I think he might actually love him … as much as he can," she added bitterly.

Michael felt the truth in her words hit him like bullets to the chest but still he chose to be defiant. He told her he didn't care about _love. _He told her he only went out last night because Brian had needed his best friend near. He'd made a whole load of lies and he knew she didn't buy a single one. She didn't push it though, she already knew she'd made her point. Brian Kinney was never going to love Michael Novotny, no matter how many times he wrote it in his diary as a child, no matter how many times he willed it or how many times he dreamed it; it would only ever be a fantasy. So, Michael knew what he had to do, he had to stop acting like lovesick Michael and start acting like best friend Michael and the first of his things to do was to make Brian truly realise what had happened to the love of his life.


	3. Chapter 3

Craig was insisting that he drive Justin and a girl who's name Justin couldn't remember to the cinema as self-appointed chauffer for their first date. Over the last month, since Justin had been living with his dad, Craig had managed to convince Justin he'd been dating girls for the last year and, although Justin had wondered what had come of all these feeling he used to have and all these feelings he still had every time he caught sight of a beautiful man, he trusted his dad and accepted his word. That didn't stop him being somewhat sceptical of the situation, although, he decided, having lost a whole years worth of memory, he was bound to feel sceptical when people sketchily filled him in.

"… so I've never seen this film but I can't wait. All my friends say it's amazing and I just know Justin will love it and…." The girl just prattled on in Justin's ear as she talked enthusiastically to his dad and his dad answered equally excited. It felt like some alternate universe he felt like something was missing or wrong but he just put it all down to stupid fucking Chris Hobbs and pretended not to care or notice that inside his head, something akin to a dull, throbbing and constant ache was building up inside.

Justin pressed his forehead against the glass, allowing the words from the boring conversation drown out any thoughts as he peered at the lines of the sidewalk blurring into one grey mass. Then he heard his dad snap at the girl. Justin frowned to himself but he didn't move. The girl had only suggested he take the next left but Craig had gone a little bit crazy with anger. Justin just watched to see what was wrong with the turning in question. He was expecting darkness, a tiny side street or at the very least a gang of would-be thugs stood at a street corner with guns. What he actually saw was the single busiest, brightest and most colourful road he'd ever seen. Every pub and club was covered in every colour of the rainbow, every man was dressed up like a god of expensive fashion or like a queen of tacky colour or in a dress, or with make up or with glitter. Everyone of them was fabulous. The women too looked incredible, it was all boots and leather jackets. Every person on the street seemed to be strutting their stuff, everyone seemed to love life and although Justin had only seen the street for a split second, he felt like he could have reproduced the scene perfectly. He knew exactly how the flag above that bar with the red awning had hung. He knew exactly how the lights and letters shone and illuminated that big club that he'd managed to see was called Babylon. He seemed to be able to place every concrete slap, every pothole, every colour, every light. Liberty Avenue, he sighed, it really was as perfect as he'd thought it would be.

By the time he'd reached the cinema and was sat with Claire, he'd finally overheard her name, waiting for the movie to start, his hand was itching with the need to draw the scene he saw so clearly in his head. He fidgeted the whole evening, desperate to find a pen and paper and draw, he knew his hand was fucked, he knew it was unlikely he'd be able to draw it as perfectly as he wanted, like with everything he'd drawn recently, it would probably turn out just a little bit off and imperfect not quite how he'd seen it in his head. The film, of course, seemed to last a life time and the journey home took forever too. It seemed cutting through Liberty Avenue would have shaved fifteen minutes of the journey but Craig refused to drive anywhere near it. That didn't surprise Justin, his dad had made his view on clears very clear.

Eventually, after Claire gushed about what a brilliant time she'd had, Justin finally found himself on his way home. Justin decided as his dad talked about how nice the girl was that actually, he hadn't really liked Claire at all. He didn't find her attractive but that wasn't really surprising, he hadn't found any of his dates attractive but it wasn't that. It was obvious they'd both had a horrible time, they hadn't spoken, the film had been shit and Justin had elbowed more than too many times as he wriggled about in his seat with impatience but that hadn't stopped her bullshitting about how wonderful it all had been. He hated people like that. He had a recently developed soft spot for people who told it as it was, bad or good there was no bullshit but he couldn't ever remember feeling like that. He couldn't help wonder if it was something he'd picked up in this year he had no recollection of.

He drew that street later, when he was in his room away from the prying eyes of his father. He sat in his bed and drew. It took him hours and he was working on it deep into the night mainly because his hand kept cramping up after fifteen minutes but he refused to stop. He stayed focus recreating it exactly as it was in his head and to his utmost surprise, it was coming out on the paper, exactly as it been in his head. He even drew in people, the image in his head so vivid as he sketched a fabulous drag queen, numerous twinks near one bar and then a whole load of leather clad bears outside a different and coming out of Babylon, he'd drawn a strange mix of people that seemed right to him. Some were tall, some were short, some were more gorgeous than should be allowed, some were plain but all were confident and happy. He looked at it when he'd finished. He couldn't help be proud, it was the best thing he'd drawn since the bashing and looking at it now, he felt truly like he'd accomplished something. He left the picture on his bedside table and didn't think anymore of it … that was until the next time Daphne came over.

"You're drawings are much better now," she noted as she watched Justin sketching her jacket hanging over a chair as she told him stories of the year of high school again. There was one rule of course, don't mention Brian or any of the others. She wasn't sure how it had happened but somehow, the mention of any of them threw Justin into an unstoppable rage. She blamed the anger on frustration at misplacing a year with no hint of ever recovering it. Sometimes she wanted to scream when she realised that Justin was going to unknowingly throw away a whole life just to become a sad, closeted boy once again. Sometimes, she mentioned Brian on the off chance it would spark some kind of memory but often it just ended badly. Today, however, everything was going to change and it started with the next thing Justin would say.

"It started getting easier the other day," he admitted, sketching another line of the jacket. "See that, on the bedside table," he looked up to make sure Daphne had picked up his picture, "I sketched that the other day," he smiled. "It was really easy, like I knew the place really well even though I only saw it for a second. It's one of the best things I've drawn," he beamed proudly.

He heard the rustling of paper as Daphne opened the picture up and then he heard a gasp. He looked up to see Daphne's eyes were wide and she was staring at the beautiful picture of Liberty Avenue. She turned it around so he could see it.

"Do you know where this is?" She asked carefully.

"Liberty Avenue," Justin shrugged nonchalantly. "It's strange isn't it, I've never even been there and yet I can draw it perfectly. I think it's because the image was so vivid in my mind."

"That's not strange and I'm not surprised the image was vivid, you went to that road every single night last year."

"Yeah," he rolled his eyes, he was sick of these lies, "sure I did."

"I'm serious and I can prove it. See these people," she pointed to a group of four men stood outside Babylon, two of them were tall and the other two were shorter. The shorter of the two seemed plainer, one was balding, the other had a snub nose. The tallest of the group seemed to have some ridiculous, short shirt and crazily tight trousers, the other taller man seemed to stand out. The detail on him, even though he was tiny and somewhat insignificant when you considered the whole picture, it seemed that Justin really knew this face and body. His arms were exposed and the muscles were drawn to perfection, the floppy bangs and the eyes that drew you in.

"That's them," she said. "This one's Michael. That's Emmet and that's Ted. And that," she announced triumphantly, "is Brian. Look at the detail," she urged. "It's incredible. There's no way you'd have picked all that up as you drove past the street. I think this is a memory."

"Don't be daft, Daphne," he scowled but that didn't stop him dropping his current sketch and leaning in to peer carefully at the tiny person she'd picked out as Brian. She was right, for a small man in a drawing, he certainly did have a lot of detail in his face but Justin knew immediately why that was. Wasn't it that dickhead who'd appeared at the hospital? It seemed Justin's subconscious had become confused.

"Do you see it now?" Daphne asked. It was then that Justin lost it. He informed her that he absolutely had no idea what she was talking about and that it was probably a good idea if she left. Like always, she went without a word and promised to return the next day.

As soon as she was gone, Justin was left to stare at his drawing and more importantly, the tiny crowd Daphne had picked up on outside Babylon. The more he focused on the four characters, the more he got the urge to add colour to them. Eventually, he went to his colouring pencils and began to add flashes or colour to the group. He started wit the tallest man, whom he gave orange trousers and coloured the cropped top bright orange. The short balding man he gave a reddish brown t-shirt and some beige trousers, the other shorter man was given a black top with silver panels on the top of sleeves with a pair of jeans but it was the other man, the man Daphne thought was Brian that he paid most attention to. He gave him a greyish black t-shirt hanging loosely over a pair of designer and had him holding a classy looking leather jacket. Justin wasn't sure why but he just _knew _that those were the colours and the styles of the clothe those four men in particular would be wearing.


End file.
